The Fear
by aemelia113
Summary: "Pound it." Such innocent sounding words, such terrible meaning. Every citizen in Paris dreaded waking up in the middle of the street to those words because of what they meant. "What have I done?" Oneshot.


**A/N: So, this is my first Miraculous Ladybug fic and possibly my last. I watched the entire series in three days instead of doing homework and this idea would not let go of me. Ladybug and Cat Noir always do the fist bump thing when they win. People have to know this. And if they know it, they know that it will be the first thing they hear after being de-akumatized if they are ever a victim to it in the first place. Anyhow, this is a oneshot and it will stay a oneshot. But I like this hilarious, crazy little show and there may be more fics in the future if I can get my act together on all the works in progress. Anyways, enjoy!**

 ** _The Fear_**

It was a strange fear to have, one that no one in Paris had to worry about even a year ago but now haunted the nightmares of every citizen who dared to think about it.

On the surface it seemed so insignificant, but anyone who lived there knew that it had phenomenal repercussions.

The scene:

Waking up, disoriented, in an unfamiliar place you couldn't remember walking to. Looking around, wondering if you'd been turned into a mummy or a knight or a rock monster for the third time that week. But then you hear it.

"Pound it!"

The voices whoop in unison. Your head whips towards the sound and you see the heroes that you so idolize grinning in triumph and looking at each other, arms outstretched in that all too familiar fist bump.

 _No no no no no no no..._

You're screaming in your head. The innocuous gesture of celebrating victory in battle means something entirely different to Ladybug and Cat Noir than it does to you.

It means that you have been akumatized. And now you're free and all the physical damage is undone, but still the refrain pounds at your temples.

 _What did I do? Who did I hurt? What did I do? Oh, God, what did I do?_

You'll never know the whole story unless it's second hand. It bothers you, this gap in memory.

It means you will never understand why that girl you like in class flinches away from you like she's terrified your wave will turn into a slap.

It means you'll be confused when people on the street that you've never met before avoid your eyes.

It means that you'll have to swallow a lump in your throat every time you catch your mother watching you constantly from the corners of her eyes as though waiting for you to snap again.

It means you will want to cry in frustration when everyone across the counter at work takes their food from you without touching your hand, as though they're afraid of catching the taint. Evil.

It means that you'll see video clips on the news of someone wearing your face committing unspeakable acts and won't be able to stop shaking.

It means that your aimless guilt at the sound of the whispers will never end because you don't even know what it is you're supposed to be sorry for.

Sometimes, it feels like it would have been better for that bus to fall on you back at the beginning when Stoneheart attacked so you wouldn't live in constant fear or wake up screaming with that image in your head.

Your two heroes, basking exhausted in the glow of winning, standing a few paces from you, arms out.

 _Pound it._

Because even though the destroyed buildings and broken arms and ruined furniture and shattered streetlamps go away when the shout of "Miraculous Ladybug!" rings out, the memories of the hours of terror do not. Not for all the people who had no black butterfly clouding their minds.

Ladybug and Cat Noir had no idea the effect that their little post-fight catchphrase wrought upon the people, and no one was about to tell them. No one knew who they were under the masks, but it was obvious that they were kids. People forgot that sometimes. Enough kids had to deal with the guilt of waking up on a rooftop to those words without making the two who fought for the city feel bad for saying them.

It was a strange fear, but not a soul in Paris would make fun of you for having it

Because they felt it too.


End file.
